No one wants to hear those words, standing with the phone pressed to her ear, expecting that beloved voice to say it’s almost home. No one wants to hear instead “I was in an accident,” to hear about a rolling van, glass shattering, panic setting in.
I remind myself a thousand times as I call friends, soothe children: it could have been an officer calling. “We’re sorry Mrs. Kilmer, but there’s been an accident.”
Could have been.
So fragile, this life, and our hearts pound and blood rushes round with this realization– we are always only one blink from forever.
And everything is a whirlwind of phone calls and confusion and doctors and worried children and when did I grow up and how can I be expected to deal with this? How can I deal with it when I am so tired and the little one is sick and sleepless and the other part of my one flesh is standing alone on the side of the road looking at our totaled van?
Somehow I fight back the little girl tears and call on the woman strength, and finally he is home and okay but sore with flecks of glass still in his hair.
Deep within I feel one little flutter– is it? Did I really feel that? Fragile life within and without, and I am blessed, and I hug my babies tight and curl into him that I love and the little girl tears come out, just for awhile, and it’s okay.
Tomorrow? I don’t know. Ten minutes from now? All a mystery.
But this moment? Right now? We are all here, and we are all safe, and there is no question in my mind–
God is good. All the time.